


76. Aftermath

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [76]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6323974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings: none, other than references to the scene</p>
    </blockquote>





	76. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: none, other than references to the scene

Stephen comes to with a start, whatever pain initially woke him is lost in the cacophony of aches and throbs that his body is happy to make known the moment he's conscious. "Oh fuck," he groans, bringing one hand up to his head.

Antony's been sleeping lightly, right on the edge of wakefulness, like he does on a job so the moment Stephen's awake, he is too. "Hey, it's okay," he says, sitting up, reaching for a bottle of water from the nightstand and a vial of pills. "I'm here, we're home. You're safe."

Thankful for the small light that they'd left on across the room, Stephen lifts his head from the pillow pile he's sleeping on, being propped up had seemed to help - at least it had when he'd first settled in bed.

He turns to look at his Sir - one eye is fully swollen shut now - and he licks over dry, split, lips. "May I have...some soda, or something sweet?" he asks with a rough voice. "I need sugar."

"Yeah, hold on," Antony says, setting the bottle and a couple pills within Stephen's reach before he runs out and he grabs a Coke from the fridge. He cracks the lid and settles on the side of the bed. "You want some help?"

"No cookies?" Stephen's smile is all twisted from the split in his lip, the bruising, the swelling. "Yeah, please." Shuffles up a little more, wincing as he does until he's more able to drink. The cold, overly sweet Coke is perfect, wetting his mouth and sliding easily down his throat.

"I'll shower you with goodies tomorrow." Antony promises and gives him a smile. "Better?"

"Yeah, a bit," Stephen nods. He brings his hand up to touch the puffy flesh around his eye. "Do I look as bad as I feel?" he asks, there's some humour to his tone to lighten it.

"Honestly? Yeah, you look pretty rough," Antony says. "But I like knowing they're all my marks."

Stephen looks down at himself, the sheeting has settled down around his hips, and his torso is criss crossed with bruises; some from the belt, others from Antony's fists and feet. "Tomorrow, I want you to take pictures, I want to lay on a white sheet and have you document every one of them," he looks up. "Every broken inch of me."

Antony nods. Fuck yes. "I'd love to do that," he says, gently taking Stephen's hand in his. "And when you're up to it, we can watch the tape."

He'd forgotten. He'd totally forgotten about that - Antony has the place wired up with CCTV for security, and he'd set it to roll while they'd scened. Glancing down at where Antony holds his hand he frowns for a moment then gives a brief nod. "I need to process this first, and I'm still feeling...off, like I have to swap out 'boy' for 'I'."

"There's no hurry," Antony assures him, already relieved they've made it through with Stephen _this_ okay. "The tape'll be there whenever we want to watch it and if that's months from now, I'm fine with that." He smiles. "You need anything else? I put some pills out if you want them," nodding towards the water he'd set beside Stephen earlier. "They'll help you sleep."

"Yeah I'll take them." That's an easy enough choice to make. He takes the Coke from Antony, his hands being much steadier than they were earlier. "I'm going to need to piss before I settle back down again."

"Okay. I'll help you there and back," Antony says with a soft smile. "Any breakfast requests?"

"Waffles, pancakes, bacon, maple syrup," Stephen huffs out a laugh. "Or pastries, or donuts or anything that's basically carb based with sugar, you get the idea."

"Yup." Antony grins, eyes crinkling at their corners, so fucking happy to hear Stephen laugh. "I love you," he says, just needing to.

Stephen's eyes cut up at that, meeting his Sir's. "I need to hear that, I'm going to need to feel cherished I think." He needs that counterpoint to the brutality of what they've just done. He knows Antony will give him whatever he needs, but he has to articulate it. "There were moments..." he tails off and shrugs. "I was pretty messed up in there." Meaning the gym.

"I know," Antony nods, giving Stephen's hand a light squeeze. "And I know it's going to take time to heal and to process and I hope I give you what you need but if I'm not, if you need more from me, you need to let me know and you have blanket permission to speak freely. I'm not going to think less of you or think you're needy or any of that shit. I love you more than anything and just as I promised I'd break you, I also promised I'd put you back together."

And just like that, Stephen finds himself in tears again, they spill down his cheeks before he can wipe them away. It's what he needed to hear. Everything he needed to hear. "Thank you S..." he stops and swallows, "Thank you Tony."

"Thank _you_ ," Antony says softly. "You made my biggest fantasy come true and it was amazing."

Using his fingers to dry his eyes, Stephen sniffs and smiles. "Yeah? How about I go take that piss, swallow some pills, then you can tell me how it was for you?"

Antony nods. "Let me help," he says, moving everything to the nightstand. He takes most of Stephen's weight again - insists on it - not because he doesn't think his boy can walk now, but because he's not taking any chance of him of passing out and hurting himself even more.

Stephen leans in, grateful for the help, the main pain comes from the skin pulling over bruises and raised welts. "My dick feels weird, I can feel the weight you know?" Pissing had been an interesting experience earlier, he knows he has to sit to make sure he doesn't spray the bathroom.

"I've heard that before," Antony nods. "That it's really noticeable at first." He smiles. "It was a good idea to do it now though. Combine all the healing."

"Says the man with no injuries on him whatsoever," Stephen snorts softly as he lifts the lid to the toilet and slowly lowers himself down, reaching to tuck his dick to aim down into the pan.

Antony starts to say something then thinks better of it, glancing away while his boy does his business.

Stephen smiles at that, it's those little things, that show despite everything they do, however much Antony degrades him, there is always respect between them. When he's done he uses a plastic cup they'd put out earlier, fills it from the tap and washes it over the end of his cock before dabbing it dry with paper. Slowly pushing up he leans into the vanity to wash his hands, head down, not wanting to look at himself in the mirror. "I'm done."

Helping Stephen back to bed, Antony gets him settled under the covers, pillows propped up behind him and makes sure he takes his pills, washing them down with water. They'll take about fifteen minutes to kick in but that's probably just the right amount of time for them to talk a bit. He climbs back in on the other side, shifting as close as he dares without hurting Stephen. "You wanted to know about things from my end?"

Turning his head, his hand in Antony's Stephen smiles. "Yeah, it was such a big thing for you, for us,"

"It was... incredible," Antony says slowly, feeling his way through his response. "Having you that much under my control, being outside the club, pushing you until I felt you break," he pauses. "I was so fucking hard the whole time. God. Knowing I was going to get to see my marks on you for days, that I didn't have to hold back..." He smiles at Stephen. "I don't know how much you remember, but you took both my fists."

"I did?" Stephen's brows shoot up at that. "I did wonder why my ass was so sore, more than usual I mean," he muses on that for a moment. "Huh, kinda weird to think I didn't realise, I know was I was pretty disassociated toward the end."

"It seemed like the right time to do it," Antony says with another small smile, "especially since I've been threatening it for so long."

"Have you done it before? With other guys?" It's not a question Stephen's asked before, and part of him wonders why he's even thinking about it now, but then there's so little that they do that Antony hasn't experienced with someone else.

Antony nods. "But it wasn't the same."

"Oh," Stephen nods and turns away, staring out across the room, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, the only movement is the pad of one finger where it rubs against Antony's hand.

"Hey. What are you thinking?" Antony asks.

Stephen blinks and shakes his head. "Nothing...just zoned out a little," he turns his head on the pillow again. He's feeling a little emotional, but he figures that's perfectly normal under the circumstances. "It was everything you wanted though, yeah?" and if there's a hint of pleading in his tone he doesn't pick up on it.

"It was _brilliant_ ," Antony says and leans in, brushing his lips over Stephen's shoulder. "It was everything I wanted, and anything I've done before, it wasn't the same, because none of those men were my boy. None of them were _you_."

Now Stephen's eyes fill up, and he bites down on his swollen lip to push them back. _Am I enough, am I the perfect boy?_ He swallows and wipes at his eyes with his fingertips.

"You make me so proud," Antony continues, reaching back for a tissue and handing it to Stephen. "You give me so much pleasure and I love you so much. You mean the world to me. You know that, right?"

Nodding mutely, Stephen dabs at his eyes, his throat too closed up to talk. He can't imagine not having Antony in his life, this man is the centre of his universe, everything revolves around him. It's what he was seeking his whole adult life, a man who complements him so completely.

"Good, because I'll tell you as often as I need to," Antony says with another soft kiss pressed to Stephen's skin. "You should try and get some more sleep."

///

He's been ordered to stay in bed - and to be honest, that's not exactly a chore - not when there is barely an inch of his skin that is not some other shade of colour than its normal pink hue and he _aches_. Coupled with the low throb in his dick, Stephen is distinctly disgruntled... and hungry, really fucking hungry.

Antony makes up two trays with plates of pancakes, waffles, bacon, sausage, fresh fruit, coffee and juice. There's also chocolate croissants from the nearby bakery and real maple syrup. And lots of napkins. "Here we go," he says, coming back into the bedroom with the first tray. He rattles off the tray's contents, points out the cutlery, gets the tray legs solidly braced against the bed on either side of Stephen's lap and stands back. "Anything else?"

Stephen eyes the food, the smell makes his mouth water, his belly rumble loudly. "Just you," he murmurs, picking up a fork and spearing a slice of bacon. He glances up at his lover, "Thank you."

"You're welcome but it's the least I can do," Antony answers honestly. Stephen has a whole lot more spoiling coming to him in the next few days and this is only the start. "Just let me grab mine."

Stephen's so hungry he doesn't wait for Antony to return before tucking in, piles up food on a plate and dribbles a liberal amount of syrup over the lot, waffles, pancakes, bacon and sausage. He hums his appreciation, casting his Sir a quick glance when he reappears.

"Good?" Antony says, settling on the bed beside Stephen, his legs stretched out and his tray set over his lap.

"You have no idea," Stephen manages around a mouthful, clearly his manners have deserted him. But then despite all the amazing food they eat when they go out, this, _this_ plateful of food prepared by his Sir is the best thing he's tasted in months. Sure he's in some discomfort as he eats, his jaw bruised, his lip split, but even that doesn't diminish his pleasure.

"You won't have room for lunch," Antony teases, drizzling maple syrup over a few pancakes.

"Watch me," Stephen casts his lover a look over another loaded forkful of food. "I don't recall ever being this fucking hungry."

"Well, you didn't eat anything after breakfast yesterday," Antony points out, "and what we did was a huge fucking workout." Plus all the adrenaline and fear, the riot of emotions. There's been times when Antony and his crew have devoured an entire cow by themselves after a job.

Stephen grunts his agreement as he steadily works his way through all the food that had been put in front of him, when he's done he leans back carefully into the pillow pile and then belches softly.

Antony chuckles. "Isn't that supposed to be a compliment to the chef?" Still slowly and steadily working his way through his own pile of food.

"Somethin' like that, yeah," Stephen closes his eye and sighs. "I think that's all I'm gonna do today, eat and sleep."

"Sounds like a good idea," Antony says, watching Stephen for a moment. "I'm gonna finish here, clean up, do some work in the living room. You call me if you need anything, okay? And I'll check in every once in a while."

"Bathroom," Stephen stifles a yawn. "When you're done eating, I could do with a hand to the bathroom." He opens his good eye and looks at his lover. "I'll get myself back in bed when I'm done though, okay?"

"You sure?" Antony asks, taking a last few bites. "I don't really want you walking around before you're ready."

"I'll be fine," Stephen's smile is all twisted. "I'll shout you if I need you okay?" There's only so much taking care he's prepared to let his lover do, some things should remain private.

///

Making his way quietly down the hallway to their bedroom, Antony checks in on Stephen again, watching his lover sleep from the doorway. He's checked on him every half hour or so all day, bringing magazines and food and drink as needed. True to his word, Stephen had put away as large a lunch as he had a breakfast and Antony had been seriously impressed. It's good he's eating, good he's able to get back to bed from the washroom. So far, any fears either of them had about any fallout from their scene are proving unfounded, but Antony's not resting easy yet. It's not even been a day.

Stephen stirs from a doze, a dull ache in his side niggling enough that he needs to shift and turn a little onto his side. He groans as he does so, settling back so he can gaze out of the huge windows that make up one wall of the room. The buzz is wearing off, he can feel it, whilst he's never really been one to suffer with post scene drop, Stephen's aware that with the level they had played at, he was pushing his luck.

"Hey, can I get you anything?" Antony asks from the doorway when he sees Stephen's awake.

Stephen doesn't even turn his head. "No, thank you."

Antony takes a couple of steps into the room. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm dropping," Stephen closes his eyes, fingers tightening in the bedsheets, as if holding on to them will stop him falling apart.

Antony comes around the bed and strips off his clothes, climbing back into bed with Stephen. "Hold onto me then," he says, shifting close. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

Somehow Stephen manages to press himself against Antony enough; enough to wrap his fingers around the dog tags that sit on his lover's skin, enough that he can press his face into the soft fur of his chest hair, enough to feel like Antony will stop him unravelling. "I hate this," he murmurs, "I hate being needy and weak and pathetic in your eyes."

Antony snorts softly. "You're none of those things to me," he says firmly. "You took so much yesterday, I'm in awe, and this is to be expected. It's not anything you have control over, it's fucking chemicals in your brain, your body... If I came home badly hurt and was having a tough time, you'd tell me to go easy on myself, so give yourself the same break."

"I have this thing, this... compulsion," Stephen's emotional state making him more open than he might normally be. "I have to be perfect for you, all the time, in whatever way I can, this... this isn't being that." He closes his hand tighter around the dog tags so they dig into his palm.

"I know you do," Antony murmurs, giving Stephen the gentlest of hugs. "But no one's perfect and I don't need you perfect. As far as I'm concerned, you're perfect for me just being you. Everything about you, it's all you, it's all what I wanted. I'm not Cam. I'm not sitting around weighing your every action, comparing you to anyone else. I'm just thinking how fucking lucky I am to have found you."

"Promise me you'll keep me, always, for ever, that you'll always want me, my submission, me... all of me... promise me, please Sir." Stephen can barely talk around the lump in his throat.

"I promise. Look at me," Antony says, tilting Stephen's chin up with one finger, his eyes locked on his boy. "I _promise_. I love you so much and I will never stop wanting you, all of you."

Releasing a shuddery breath, Stephen nods, he lets go his death grip on the tags and using his fingers he tidies them back on Antony's chest.

Antony brushes a kiss across the top of Stephen's head. "You want me to bring in my laptop? We can watch something. Or I can read to you," he offers with a smile. "Or just stay here while you sleep." Whatever Stephen wants. That's his whole mantra for these coming days.

"Would you read to me?" He can't think of anything more perfect right now, he won't have to move, or think, he can just lay and listen to that voice, his Sir's and lover's voice. "I'd love that."

Antony smiles. "Any requests or should I just read what I'm reading right now?"

"Depends," Stephen's tone is amused, despite himself. "What are you reading? It's not some boring ass economics journal is it?"

Antony laughs. "No. Although that would put you back to sleep," he says, eyes crinkling at their corners. "I'm reading this book by Oscar Hijuelos. He's one of my favourites, although he takes a bit of getting used to." He reaches over to his nightstand for the book. "I'm a few chapters in but I'll start over." Shifting closer and getting comfortable. "You need anything else before we start?"

Some careful shifting and Stephen gets as settled as he can, he closes his eyes, his fingers seeking out hair dusted skin to stroke. "I'm ready."

"Okay, remember, bear with me," Antony says with a smile. "The house in which the fourteen sisters of Emilio Montez O'Brien lived radiated femininity. Men who passed by the white picket fence--the postman, the rag seller, the iceman--were sometimes startled by a strong scent of flowers, as if perfume had been poured onto the floorboards and ground..."


End file.
